


Like a Good Lad

by farevenasdecidedtouse



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Light breathplay, M/M, Praise Kink, Voyeurism, honor bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-02-10 02:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18651244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farevenasdecidedtouse/pseuds/farevenasdecidedtouse
Summary: When certain plans of the Imperial household are disrupted, Csevet must rearrange things.





	Like a Good Lad

It had all been decided, until it hadn’t.

“Wouldst watch thy nohecharei have me, like a debauched emperor of old?” Csevet had asked Maia one night, triumphant at the twitch of Maia’s shaft in his hand, and Maia’s stuttered, incoherent exclamation of protest at such a lewd prospect. “I might service each of them in turn with my mouth, perhaps as thou wert to fuck me from behind. Or perhaps they might enter me together, forcing me open until I felt like to split in two as thou wert to watch and direct them. Does such a thing excite thee, love?”

Maia had gasped and climaxed within moments of Csevet’s last words, Csevet spilling inside of him soon thereafter. Csevet’s bleary glance toward the bed curtains for any hint of motion or reaction had proven less fruitful than his emergence some moments later to spy the all-too-neutral expressions of both First Nohecharei. A vague guilt weighing in his chest following his earlier hasty and heated words, he lingered in the Imperial quarters to clean himself before following soldier and maza into the hall after the shift change.

“We feel we ought to apologize,” he began.

Beshelar muttered something Csevet did not hear and stalked away. Cala, for his part, turned to face Csevet, lips compressed as if fighting a smile.

“We would be lying,” Cala said, voice so level as to bely his wide pupils and the pinkened tips of his ears, “if we said the prospect you described was not something we and the Lieutenant Beshelar had not… considered. Occasionally at length. We appreciate your solicitude in apologizing to us as a captive audience, but were the circumstances to be different we imagine an arrangement might be reached.”

Csevet blinked in surprise. “We see.”

“If this is something that you—both of you—would care for,” Cala continued, “then perhaps we might speak of it to our colleague. Then, once we have assured him repeatedly that there would be no harm or dishonor in doing such a thing, perhaps you might begin the task of speaking to His Serenity of it in all seriousness.” He stepped away, leaving Csevet frozen in the hall outside the Imperial chambers.

The subsequent obstacle was, naturally, Maia’s horror at the thought of Csevet being debauched against his will. Multiple insistences of Csevet’s eagerness, reminders that it had been Csevet’s idea to begin with, that the Empress was not only indisposed but had given her blanket permission for such things, that the First were as eager as Csevet had given way to fear on Csevet’s part that the thought of him with another had sparked jealousy in his lord. Maia, however, was still more horrified at that thought.  _ I am so grateful for every day with thee, _ he said in a fervent whisper,  _ that I wish only for thee to have what thou desirest. And… _ a dark flush, a glance toward the white gold rings adorning his fingers.  _ I do wish to see it as well. _

_ Then cease fearing thou takest advantage, _ Csevet had replied with a kiss, and it was settled until the letter from Ezho.

The morning in question Csevet had risen from his bed light-headed with anticipation as well as apprehension—that Maia would once again decide he had unjustly coerced Csevet or his First Nohecharei into the arrangement, that one of them would fall ill by the evening, that some vital matter of state would demand the Emperor’s attention and time for the foreseeable future. That the fantasy—the subject of countless discreetly-bound novels, that which was rumored for the spouse and lover of every Emperor since Edrevenivar but no doubt rarely anticipated so enthusiastically by the participants—would not come to pass.

In the end, only one of these proved a problem. The Nazhmorhathvereise negotiations had come to a head far sooner than anyone had expected; the only reason departure was not immediate was the fact that the Imperial airship could not be made ready before the following morning. The subsequent diplomacy was liable to take months, leaving those involved with little time to sleep or eat, let alone indulge in anything more pleasant. Carefully articulating the last few lines of the correspondence without meeting Maia’s eyes, Csevet felt his hopes more painfully dashed than he had thought possible save for the small glimmer of possibility that their last few hours at court might yet be salvaged.

As such, he had sprung into action. Following a few discreet and nonspecific orders to the Alcethmeret staff the bedsheets had been changed to a stain-obscuring pattern of thickly-embroidered roses, and the room aired. Candles burned on every surface in lieu of harsh gaslight, cones of heady incense smoldered near the window, and a glass of as-yet-untouched cordial sat on the small table beside the chair at the foot of the bed. Maia, dressed the part of the licentious Ethuverazhid Zhas in a white fur-lined robe, had opened his mouth at the sight upon entering the Imperial chambers, glancing first to his nohecharei, then to Csevet, then back again.

“We cannot keep you from the sleep you will so surely need for our own amusement.” Maia’s lips were pursed in the stubborn agitation that Csevet recognized from countless clashes over policy and outdated formalities, and he fought back a sigh marrying fondness with exasperation.

“If we may, Serenity,” Cala said, eyes mild behind his spectacles. “As we have been assigned quarters on the Imperial airship, the Lieutenant and I will have ample time to rest between now and our next shift given the early hour of our departure. Moreover, we ourselves would forbear to deny what has been promised you, particularly with the lack of a concrete date for when it might next occur, and in conclusion we feel we must remind you that you will not be the only one benefiting from this particular arrangement.” Despite himself, Csevet felt his heart lift.

“We can find no argument with the Athmaza’s statements,” Beshelar agreed, face heating so obviously that Csevet had to suppress a smile by turning toward Maia.

“Dost trust me? And thy nohecharei?” Csevet asked, gazing up at his lord with all the artless earnestness he could summon.

“Of course,” Maia breathed.

“Then wilt sit here like a good lad and enjoy what we have planned for thee without any interruption?” The words had come unplanned, but the suggestion of power, of  _ consequences _ if Maia disobeyed, was as titillating as it was unexpected. He felt Maia shiver beneath his hands, intensifying the gesture by sliding them down Maia’s back to lasciviously cup his buttocks. “Allow us to entertain thee—and ourselves—without fearing we do it under duress?”

“I swear to thee I will,” Maia said. He tangled his fingers in Csevet’s hair for a slow, tonguing kiss, arms twining around Csevet’s shoulders to pull him closer still. They parted, and Csevet’s heart pounded at the sheer hunger on the faces of both First Nohecharei.

With a labored breath he stepped back from Maia and into the arms of the First, exchanging a three-way kiss with them, then another, then gasping as Cala’s teeth pinched the tender flesh of his neck. “Canst not imagine how long we have awaited this,” Cala said, voice close to Csevet’s ear. “Particularly my esteemed colleague.”

Csevet opened his eyes to see Beshelar’s glare and burst out laughing, partly from nerves, partly at the indignation writ large across the soldier’s features. “Thou’st come away from His Serenity’s trysts hiding a cockstand more times than I can remember thyself, maza,” Beshelar said, voice a growl that resonated straight between Csevet’s legs.

“Yes, but a fraction as ashamed of it as thee. So stop being ashamed.” Cala leaned forward to chastely kiss Csevet once again. His tongue remained still, hands lingering on Csevet’s shoulders, one stroking the back of his neck as Beshelar’s lips took their place but daring no lower. In response, Csevet clasped a hand each, guiding them around to encircle his waist until he was caught between the two of them.

“Will you not treasure this use His Imperial Serenity has given you of his own catamite?” he murmured, glancing between the two of them to see Cala’s eartips turn bright red and Beshelar’s posture become somehow even more ramrod-straight than usual. “A toy to fuck and abuse until you have both had your fill?”

He was unsure which was more arousing, the reactions of the First or the stiffening of Maia’s posture in the chair at the foot of the bed. The Emperor’s lips were resolutely pressed together, eyes wide on the tableau as Cala finally began to ease the jacket from Csevet’s shoulders, followed by his undershirt. As uncannily in sync as he had ever seen the First Nohecharei step together, closing the distance behind the Emperor, moving into position to protect him against even perceived threats, Beshelar simultaneously undid his flies and underthings, allowing himself one slow, deliberate stroke of Csevet’s already-straining shaft before easing off his remaining clothing.

Completely unclad between the two of them—the three of them, in fact—Csevet indulged in a shudder of desire. The sheer contrast of gangling, bony Cala and broad, powerfully-built Beshelar was as sharp as it was erotic, two pairs of hands greedily shaping the fine angles of his body with touches as reverent as they were eager. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for the First Nohecharei to pass him between them, speaking hardly a word even as Cala dropped to his knees to begin delicately mouthing at Csevet’s already rigid shaft, for him to pass something to Beshelar who paused in running his hands hungrily along Csevet’s arms, flanks, thighs, to slide a slick finger between the cheeks of his arse. Judging by the size of the bulge in those close-fitting soldier’s trousers, Csevet reflected with a quirk of his lips, such precautions would be necessary indeed.

He sighed with pleasure as Cala encircled the head of his cock with his lips, one long, spidery hand wrapping around the base of the shaft as Csevet relaxed back against Beshelar’s chest. Casting a glance toward Maia from beneath demurely lowered lashes he was not disappointed—the Emperor’s gaze was fixed on them as Csevet had seen it only on icons in the Mich’othasmeire, mouth slightly open, pale eyes dark with lust.

“I must ask thee,” Csevet said, voice husky despite his casually-delivered words, “to refrain from acting on thy desires until thynohecharei have taken their pleasure. I would not have thine own enjoyment—“ a hitch of breath as Cala’s tongue brushed the fine membrane at the base of the head “—brought to a premature end.”

“I have sworn, and I will hold to my promise,” Maia replied, ears drawing back with the stubborn resolve Csevet had come to know so well.

“Dost so well for us, my love.” Csevet gave Maia one last smile, heart warming as Maia glowed at this praise, before feeling himself tugged back toward the bed. In front of him, Cala extended to his feet like a crane rising from its nest to follow as Beshelar sat down at the bed’s foot. The latter had not yet undressed, and Csevet moved forward to reach for his trouser fastenings before feeling himself tugged backward by one arm.

“Sit, with thy back to his chest,” Cala instructed, lowering himself once more. Beshelar nodded, extracting his cock from the confines of trousers and underclothes—near as thick as Csevet’s wrist and flushed red as Beshelar’s face. The desire held back for so long was ironically apparent in his perfect soldier’s posture, in his complete stillness as Csevet sank inch by tortuous inch onto his cockstand, in the rhythmic huffs of breath suggesting one accustomed to hiding noises of pleasure however possible.

Finally, Csevet was fully seated in Beshelar’s lap, head resting on one broad shoulder. He was unable to keep from letting out a soft groan of pleasure as Cala took his cock in his mouth once more, drawing his lips up it in long, teasing swipes obviously meant to enflame but not to satisfy. Trapped between the stretching, stabbing  _ fullness  _ of Beshelar inside him and unwilling to give Cala the satisfaction of thrusting into his mouth, his fingers tangled in the sheets at the edge of the bed as Beshelar began to fuck him in slow, merciless strokes that left him gasping and whining with unfulfilled desire within moments. His pulse seemed the loudest noise in the room; sweat beaded on his brow, under his arms, between his thighs and Beshelar’s, and still the torment did not cease. Each time he felt the surge of climax building in his loins Cala drew his mouth off once more, leaving Csevet on the knife’s edge with longer and longer interludes between each suck.  _ I will not beg. Not yet, _ he told himself firmly even as a disappointed whimper tore itself from his throat as Cala’s hand ghosted over the swell of his stones, one thumb briefly stroking the underside before he lowered his mouth to lavish attention on these as well.

The speed and urgency of Beshelar’s thrusts had begun to lift Csevet bodily off the floor with each stab of his cock into Csevet’s stretched, aching hole. Pain and pleasure thrummed through him like a second pulse and he dug his teeth into the inside of his lower lip, willing himself to pace his enjoyment. This surfeit of pleasure was his for as late the evening as they could sustain themselves—his and his lord’s. “Art thou well still, my love?” he panted between thrusts, casting a glance at still-stationary Maia.

“Yes,” Maia replied, glancing up from where he had been watching with that same rapt, breathless gaze. Half-closing his eyes, Csevet cast his eyes toward the chair to enjoy the sight, the galvanic tension of a nearing climax intensifying with every tiny shift in Maia’s posture, every twitch of his ears as Csevet gasped or whimpered at the pistoning of Beshelar’s cock in and out of him.

“Art close,” Cala said, pausing with a last kiss to Csevet’s thigh to glance up at him. His queue was more disheveled than usual, saliva and traces of Csevet’s seed glossing his lips. “Still, we feel that if art to satisfy His Serenity to the fullest we must not finish thee  _ too _ soon.”

“We… defer to your wisdom, Athmaza,” Csevet panted, his words drowned out by a hiss of breath followed by a muffled shout from Beshelar as the soldier reached his own climax. Csevet cried out at the brutal thrusts, feeling himself slammed helplessly onto Beshelar’s pulsing cock over and over by a wide-palmed hand on each hip. It was far, far too much to resist, all he could do to twine his arms back around Beshelar’s chest to keep himself a semblance of upright until with a low, groaning breath Beshelar urged Csevet off of his lap and onto the bed beside him with surprising gentleness.

“Merciful goddeses,” Beshelar observed. He cast a glance toward Maia in turn, but a small smile and shake of Csevet’s head kept Maia silent.

Cala, meanwhile, had removed his own clothing before resuming his place at the foot of the bed. “Much as I fear to disappoint after the charms of my colleague,” he said, chin dipping toward his far more modestly-sized cockstand, “I cannot deny I am… eager.”

“Obviously,” Csevet replied, his deadpan tone provoking a near-hysterical giggle from Maia. “How wouldst have me?”

In answer, Cala lowered himself horizontally across the foot of the bed like an embroidered velvet foot covering, Beshelar drawing back up the bed to allow them the room. Cala drew Csevet down on top of him for a slow and lingering kiss, Csevet tossing his hair to one side to allow Maia the best view of their faces, as he climbed astride Cala’s bony hips to sink down onto his cock as he had Beshelar’s. The far shorter length was much easier to accommodate but still caused him to gasp as he began to ride Cala’s hips, blindly seeking any scrap of pleasure that would bring him to completion.

“Deret,” Cala’s voice was positively silken in the near-silence, over the obscene slap of flesh on flesh. “Touch him, but do not let him climax.”

Csevet’s ears were flush to his head with excitement as Beshelar drew behind him, calloused knuckles caressing the soft skin of his inner thighs, teeth grazing the tenderest spots of neck, shoulders, and ears. Contrary to the fragile, awkward straw bundle he resembled, Cala’ stamina was unflagging, breath quickening and ears trembling but doggedly meeting every thrust of Csevet’s with one of his own.

Minutes must have passed as he rode, and Csevet felt Beshelar begin to grow half-hard against the cleft of his arse once more. With slow deliberation he began to circle his buttocks and lower back against the length of Beshelar’s cock, smiling with triumph at Beshelar’s muffled curse as well as Maia’s look of shock and wonder from the chair. Csevet shot Maia the most innocent of smiles before reaching behind to take Beshelar’s cock in his hand, allowing the movement of Cala’s body alone (either the man was far stronger than he looked or he was augmenting his strength somehow) to guide the motion of his hand as he coaxed Beshelar back to full hardness.

Rising to a sitting position, Cala began to rock harder into him, lips meeting Csevet’s for kiss after hard, sucking kiss, leaving a necklace of love bites around the base of his neck. Displaced from his place at Cala’s feet, Beshelar drew to one side where Csevet switched to his other hand, barely managing to encircle the base of Beshelar’s shaft once more before Cala gasped and crushed his mouth to Csevet’s to muffle his groan of fulfillment. Grinding down slow and hard and deliberate onto Cala’s cock, Csevet milked the last vestiges of his climax from him until Cala groaned in protest, holding up a hand as he eased himself out from underneath Csevet’s trembling legs to allow Csevet to once more fall back into Beshelar’s arms.

“Wilt take thy pleasure once more, Lieutenant?” Csevet asked, peering up through eyelashes lowered in a parody of demure flirtation.

With an impatient huff of breath, Beshelar shoved Csevet backwards onto the bed beneath them, grasping one shoulder to flip Csevet face-down onto the mattress. Csevet had time for a short gasp before Beshelar entered him once more, grasping a handful of Csevet’s hair to force his head down into the embroidered counterpane. “Damned tease,” Beshelar rasped, his free hand anchoring Csevet’s upraised arse in place as he plowed into him with the strength of a mechanical piston. “Is this what hast hungered for so long? To be used so before the Ethuverazhid Zhas until art fucked-out as a whore on Summernight?”

“Yes!” Csevet’s fingers tangled in the bedsheets, loins spasming at such vulgarity from Beshelar. Suddenly, Beshelar’s free hand was on his throat, fingers squeezing just surely enough to impede the flow of his breath but not stop it. The promise, the knowledge of the raw strength held in check only by the control of one on the verge of losing all control to the pleasures of Csevet’s body sent a surge of pure, raw lust through him near enough to drag him to climax untouched in that moment. Then, Cala’s bony, inexorable hand encircled his cock, hot and close and  _ good _ , surely better than anything Csevet had ever felt in weeks, and he was thrusting, thrusting, sobbing, spurting again and again over the bright flowers and vines and over Beshelar’s fist, head swimming with the lack of air and this libertine’s excess of pleasure. Barely had his last aftershocks claimed him then Beshelar’s hand was on his other hip, securing him in place as with a handful more of bruisingly violent thrusts he reached a second climax, seed filling Csevet’s already-slick hole.

He felt Beshelar’s slowly softening cock slip from him, felt a broad, calloused palm cup the side of his face with brusque affection. “Serenity?” Beshelar asked, his voice hoarse.

Maia opened his mouth as if to protest. With the last vestige of his strength Csevet reached toward the chair, drawing Maia onto the bed beside him. His swollen lips met his lord’s for a slow but demanding kiss. “My sweet, obedient lad,” Csevet murmured in his ear, feeling the shiver of ardor through Maia’s body. “Hast waited so patiently—wilt continue long enough to reap the rewards?”

Maia whimpered as Csevet’s lips brushed the point of his ear, as Csevet bonelessly spread himself beneath Maia on the bed. “ I will,” Maia replied, voice breathy with need. Shedding his robe and nightshirt, grasping the base of his rigid, plum-black shaft in one trembling hand, he entered Csevet’s swollen, abused hole in one motion with a rattling gasp of pleasure.

Around him, Csevet tensed, his body protesting with the mere effort as even now his throbbing, aching shaft gave another overly hopeful twitch. To his left he noticed the rapid movement of Cala’s hand on a renewed erection, to his right Beshelar devouring the sight even as his breathing slowly returned to normal. Pitiful, whining moans of mingled discomfort and need that hardly sounded as though they could have come from his own lips filled the air, over Maia’s harsh, panting breaths. Tentative, wide gray eyes met his, and Csevet raised a trembling hand to press one finger to Maia’s lips.

“Fuck thy catamite, pretty lad,” he whispered, and felt Maia’s ensuing shudder course through both of them. Though Maia was no longer the virginal youth whose body had known no touch but his own, the ordeal he had endured was enough to goad him now into faster, harder strokes that made Csevet’s keening cries surely loud enough to hear outside the room. His climax seized him in moments, thrusts becoming shorter and rougher until he withdrew with the utmost care.

“Art truly all right?” he asked.

From behind him Cala’s huff of laughter was unmistakable, and Csevet pressed the tenderest of kisses to Maia’s sweat-beaded brow with a smile. “Art hopeless,” he replied, drawing Maia to him for another kiss before settling between the Emperor and Cala, who at some point had twined his spindly fingers with Maia’s.

Behind Maia, Beshelar’s breathing had become more regular and he had apparently summoned the courage to drape an arm over Maia’s chest, head resting in the curve of his neck. “We beg your forbearance if we fall asleep, Serenity,” he husked.

Maia turned to kiss him, the gesture causing Beshelar’s eyes to widen in surprise. “We— _ I _ hope I have asked nothing of thee thou’st not desired, as you said,” he replied. “If thou wouldst sleep, then sleep, and we will keep our own counsel in the meanwhile.”

“I very much doubt I have much  _ counsel _ left to give,” Cala replied, brushing an affectionate hand over the Emperor’s cheek, “but would gladly remain as well.”

“Then remain,” Maia replied, settling back into Csevet’s arms, “and we will find a way to explain this in the morning. Even through a simple refusal to explain ourselves.”

“Only leave it to me, Serenity,” Csevet replied, drawing his lord and beloved into his arms once more.


End file.
